


There's a First Time for Everything

by 221B_Ladybug



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Accidental Voyeurism, Alternate Universe - College/University, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Boyfriends, Boys Kissing, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, First Kiss, First Time, Flirting, Frottage, Jealous Sherlock, John Plays Rugby, John is 19, John is Not a Virgin, Lap Sex, Loss of Virginity, M/M, Making Out, Mutual Masturbation, Nipple Licking, Nipple Play, Older Sherlock, Oral Sex, Protective John, Seduction, Sexual Tension, Sherlock Holmes and Feelings, Sherlock Makes Deductions, Sherlock is 23, Sherlock is Married to his work at first, Skinny Dipping, Sleepy Cuddles, Teen John, Tutor Sherlock, Unilock, Virgin Sherlock
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-11-12
Updated: 2015-12-17
Packaged: 2018-05-01 08:08:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 9,622
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5198504
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/221B_Ladybug/pseuds/221B_Ladybug
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When John's Chemistry grade starts dwindling, his professor assigns him a tutor. His tutor is highly intelligent and handsome. But, he is arrogant, rude and a weird. This insufferable tutor is none other than, Sherlock Holmes. Once, John gets to know Sherlock on a more personal level, he starts to see the good within the genius and they connect unexpectedly. Sherlock is well-versed in Chemistry amongst many other educational subjects, but John is experienced in another, more intimate area and plans to teach Sherlock all there is to know.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Meeting the Genius

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you [iriswallpaper](http://archiveofourown.org/users/iriswallpaper/pseuds/iriswallpaper) for being a wonderful Beta taking the time to edit this chapter for me. Also, thank you [CarrieHall](http://archiveofourown.org/users/CarrieHall/pseuds/CarrieHall) for helping out with deciding on some ideas for this story. You guys are awesome! :)  
> **This is my second Johnlock story and I hope you guys enjoy. Smut will appear in later chapters.  
> Comments and kudos make my day. They're the cable knit jumpers to my John Watson! :D

John was popular. He was athletic, handsome and sufficiently smart. Nearly everybody on campus likes John, girls and boys alike. Being the star rugby player, he received a ton of positive attention due to his popularity, good looks and incredible athletic abilities. Except not today. His chemistry grades were deplorable and his professor wasn't going to let him off the hook so easy.

Professor Lenard stopped John on his way out of the classroom after the dismissal bell. It had been his last class of the day and John was ready for rugby practice. 

He'd known something was wrong by the stern look in his professor’s face and the solemn tone in his voice when he'd asked John to stay behind for a chat. 

Being that he hadn't been turning in his homework consistently and had received a few nasty grades on his tests and quizzes for a while now, John already knew what to expect out of their conversation.

"You're going to need to enlist the help of a tutor and that's final. Unless you know of some other way you can boost your grade," Mr. Lenard explained as John stared at him gob smacked. 

"I don't need a tutor. I'm not daft, you know? I usually ace every test and quiz you give the class. It's just that rugby has been occupying most of my time and I haven't really had the chance to sit down and study and I hardly get any sleep," John countered, trying his best to persuade his instructor that he didn't need a tutor. 

Mr. Lenard let out a sigh and gave John a sad smile.

"Midterm exams are coming up soon and you need to pass. I know you're smart and used to pass my exams. But as of the last month, you haven't been doing too well on tests or class work, not to mention you've been skimping out on the homework I've been assigning. I also am aware that you're in high demand for rugby being that you're the star player. But if you fail, you won’t qualify to play rugby."

"But, sir. I...I....I-"

"It's the only way Mr. Watson. You're a great sportsman and I see you're doing outstanding in your other classes. I want you to get back to doing the great work you once did in my class."

"I know. It's just that I've been busy with sports as well."

" You're going to have to learn to balance the two. For the sake of the team," Mr. Lenard admonished, but not too harshly. He didn't want to be so tough on one of his favorite pupils.

John let out a defeated sigh and nodded his head. There was no use in trying to get out of being tutored. He needed it in order to pass the class and to keep playing his favorite sport.  
"Fine, Mr. Lenard. I'll do it. I promise I'll do better."

"Great, John. In the mean time you'll be meeting with a gentleman named Sherlock Holmes every Tuesday, Wednesday and Friday for two months. He's a year three student and he ranks number one in the first class honors. You two can work out a time schedule. He'll be waiting for you in the student library today at 3 o’clock sharp," Professor Lenard instructed.

John nodded and asked, "He's really that intelligent, huh?"  
" I hear he's quite the genius, though his teachers say he can be quite difficult to get along with. You're a likable person so I'm sure you two will get on just fine." 

"Wait. Did you just say Sherlock Holmes? He's a complete and utter wanker. He's weird and nobody can stand to be around him. My team mates say he's a freak."

"Did they explain to you why they said that about him? Yes, he's different. But, that's a bit harsh of them to say."

"They talked about this weird thing he does where he can tell you your life story just from a first glance. I'll do the tutoring sessions, just not with this nutter. I'm sure there are other smart people available to help me. Please don't force me to work with that freak," John begged, emphasizing the word ‘freak’ as if the boy were diseased.

He didn't care how intelligent this Sherlock was or about his impressive credentials. He knew that it would be too difficult to get along with that plonker.

John could recall instances where his mates, Sebastian, Victor and Brian would talk about how they'd taunt said gentleman and kick his arse if his mouth had gotten too out of hand. There was no way John was going to work with such a difficult insufferable prat. 

"He's the only one available to help you out. Shockingly enough, he agreed to help you without a problem. Everyone else is busy either with sports like you, working or studying themselves. Sherlock rarely even comes to his classes yet he passes every single one of them with flying colors. I'm sorry John but you'll have to work with him or you fail."

"Okay. I'll meet up with him. Thank you, Mr. Lenard."

"You're welcome, Watson. While I'm sure you have practice later on today, this is too is very important."

"Yes, Mr. Lenard."

John scrubbed his fingers though his cropped, golden blond hair and left the classroom. 

For the first time in a while, he felt disheartened. Never had he thought that he'd be put in a position where he'd have to decide between being tutored by an arrogant, rude creeper or drop out of a sport that he excelled in. It didn't feel right having to compromise his athletic position but he'd brought it upon himself. 

John had been spending more time partying, hanging out with his mates and hooking up with girls and a few blokes rather than focusing on his classes. Now his grades were suffering for it. The popularity and the attraction from his peers due to his status as the star player of the team and his handsome features had gone to his head. It was time to get back on track and focus. Sure, being good at rugby and being able to pass his courses could be done; he'd been balancing both for a little over a year. But, now that he recently made an incredible comeback, John had begun caring less about his academic achievements and more about the non-extracurricular activities. 

After the injury to his left shoulder from rugby last year, John decided that he never wanted to feel defeated like that again, but the way he was feeling today was nearing it.

He'd made a huge comeback and became the star player of the rugby team within a months or so, and if he could overcome that obstacle, John Watson knew that he could overcome anything else.

John was knocked out of his musings when he heard one of his best mates call out to him as he sauntered through the wide halls of the university.

"Oi, Watson! Wait up," Mike said, running to catch up with John.

"Hello, Mike. What's up?"

Once he caught up to the blond, Mike gave his friends shoulder a quick pat and walked beside him.

"I was just coming from having a chat with Greg. I think he's finally going to ask Molly out. Took him long enough, right?"

"Yeah, he's been talking about dating her forever. That's good he's going to talk to her," John agreed.

"Mate, what's wrong? You seem a bit sullen," Mike noted, seeing the way John smiled sadly and hearing a touch of despondency in his voice.

"I've got myself into a bit of trouble. I haven't been doing well in chemistry and now I have to get tutored or I could get kicked off the team," he revealed, lightly shaking his head.

"Gee, that sucks. I'm sorry about that, mate. You don't need to be put on academic probation. Who will be tutoring you?"

"A bloke named Sherlock Holmes. I've never seen him but every time I hear his name, it's something negative being said about him. I'm told that he looks down at everyone like he knows he's better than them and my rugby mates are always talking about how weird he is. Phillip, Victor and Sebastian go on about kicking his arse 'cause he's got a smart mouth. I don't want to work with someone like that," John answered.

"Whoa! Sherlock Holmes is bloody brilliant! He gets into debates with the professors, picking out errors in their lectures and always wins. You'll be sure not to do a shoddy job in chemistry after he's finished tutoring you."

"Wait, you know him?"

"Well, yeah. We're not close friends or anything of the sort, but I do talk to him occasionally. He is sorta arrogant and not the easiest to get along with but I'm sure he'll warm up to you. Who doesn't like John Watson, right?" Mike said, trying encourage his buddy to be optimistic about the situation.

"Well you have a point there, Mike. I'll take your word for it, but I'm sure they don't just call him a freak for nothing," John remarked, raising his eyebrows.

Mike was correct. John was an extremely likable bloke. Even the most stuck-up individual had no choice but to become friendly towards him. 

He was even better at getting women and men into bed when he wanted. Blokes were quicker to drop to their knees for him without complaining, trying to kiss him and or chat him up unlike the women. But nevertheless, a good blowjob was the outcome from both sexes and John wasn't stupid, he'd never turn down a decent blowjob or a decent shag.

He was very charming indeed, but he was sure his looks had played a huge part in his successful dalliances. 

John was athletically built though he was short. He had golden blond hair that was cropped a bit short but always kept neat with a bit of product that complimented his tan, sun-kissed skin tone. Those captivating navy blue eyes were the deal breaker. Everyone loved John's eyes. His lips were thin and rosy red but he was an astounding kisser, as he'd been told on numerous occasions. He prided himself on his toned, well defined body from his legs, thighs and arms to his firm, visible abs.

Yeah, this Sherlock guy would have no choice but to like John.

"Exactly! He's not that bad, at least not towards me anyway. What time are you are you meeting him?"

"I'll see him in the library at three," John answered looking at his silver watch on his arm. According to the time, he had ten minutes before it was time for the two to meet.

"I'm shocked he agreed to help. He's usually an introverted type of guy."

"So I've heard. Say, what does he look like? I don't believe I've ever seen him before and I'd like to know who to look for."

"He's tall, slender, pale and he's got dark curly hair. He also has bluish grey eyes and he's got a deep voice. Oh! It's autumn now so he'll be wearing a large dark coat and blue scarf. Looks like you've got time to change into your rugby uniform so you'll be ready for practice right after, yeah?"

"I'll look out for him. Yep. In fact I'll do that. Thanks for the talk, mate."

And with that, John made his way to the boys locker room to change into his uniform.

He quickly put on his dandelion colored and white striped, short sleeved polo shirt that hugged his torso perfectly with his black jersey shorts that stopped a little above his knee caps. He slipped on his black knee high athletic socks and his white cleats, stuffing his casual clothing with his books into his sky blue messenger bag. 

John slung it over his chest and walked over to the library that was located near the front of the University. 

It did him good to look through the skinny window in the door, eyes scanning for anyone who remotely fit the description that Mike had given sitting at one of the study tables in the middle of the room.

"Tall, dark coat and a blue scarf," John murmured slowly to himself sifting through the small crowd of students in the spacious area, looking for Sherlock.

He spotted a tall gentleman standing beside a small table in the back, undoing a blue scarf and sliding it from around his neck. This had to be the right bloke.

Once he pushed open the large entry door, John was able to get a clearer view of his tutor as he got closer and closer to him.

Thank goodness there wasn't the blurry window to obscure his view of Sherlock now - because he was bloody gorgeous! 

Sherlock Holmes had to be, undoubtedly, one of the most attractive boys in his Uni, even beating a few of the rugby players that the ladies would fawn over. Mike's terse description of the intelligent young man had been spot on. He was definitely a tall and slim fellow with a messy mop of dark curls in extreme contrast to his beautiful, pale skin. What Mike forgot to mention was that Holmes had sharp features from his prominent cheekbones to his long, pointed nose and defined jaw line. His eyes were silver yet blue at the same time and reminded John of the color of an endless stormy sea. Then there were his lips. God, those plump, pink cupids-bow lips were enticing. John could imagine kissing those lips, his shaft sliding in and out of those pretty pink lips with Sherlock on his knees eagerly sucking and bobbing his head.....no. No! There was no way John was going to think about his new tutor in such a lewd manner, especially not on their first meeting.

Sherlock carried himself with such grace and arrogance- so much arrogance, that John could practically smell it emanating off of him from across the room. He held his head high while he looked down his nose at each individual as if he thought- no knew - he was better than everyone else, as if he owned the place. He was seemingly aware of his reputation of being full of himself, having a sharp tongue, and being a know-it-all. He gave off a posh and snobbish air about himself and that didn't sit too well with others. Nobody in the whole entire universe could tell the genius anything. 

John watched Sherlock as he removed his long, charcoal grey Belstaff coat, folded it over the back of his seat and looked around the room.

He was dressed in a well-pressed, powder blue, button-up dress shirt and a pair of navy jeans that went perfectly with his black wing tips. His posh clothing suited him quite well.

"Sherlock Holmes?" John asked, trying to sound as casual as possible as he looked at the gorgeous young man standing in front of him and flashed him a friendly smile.

"Indeed. You must be John."

God, not only was Sherlock handsome as ever, his voice was perfect. It was deep, soothing, seductive and very British. John loved it.

"I am."

Sherlock gave John a quick glance and smiled inwardly. He'd been watching John, also known as number 15 which was printed on his jersey, from behind the bleachers as he practiced for rugby matches with his teammates for months now. When he was asked to tutor John, he couldn't turn down that opportunity. Though, he had a huge crush on John for so long, he didn't want to show any signs of sentiment. It was a weakness according to he and his brother, Mycroft. It changed people and caring wasn't an advantage. 

John sat down in the firm, burgundy plastic chair beside Sherlock and placed his messenger bag on the tabletop and took out a pencil, his binder and Chemistry book. Sherlock took a seat beside him and began flipping through papers in his gray plastic binder until he found the page he was looking for. 

"I hear you're a genius. Mr. Lenard and Mike say so," John said, hoping that this little conversation starter would break the ice between the two.

"So they say. But, it's an understatement."

This bloke really was arrogant.

"You're in number one in first class honors. You're brilliant," John tried again.

"Flattery will get you nowhere with me," Sherlock retorted curtly and made a noncommittal noise, though his heart fluttered with excitement from the praise.

John rolled his eyes and released a breath he didn't even know he was holding. 

"I'm not trying to flatter you. I was just giving you a compliment, something you obviously don't get too much of."

Sherlock was busy sorting through the papers he used as study guides

"Where are your problem areas in Chemistry?" Sherlock finally asked after a long moment of uncomfortable silence and rustling the papers.

"I've been doing well up until a month ago. Rugby has sorta got in the way. We're on the subject of 'pressure conversions' and 'unit cancelations'."

"Hmm, I see. You let those morons and brutes get in the way of your studies. Very smart, John."

John turned to look at Sherlock for a moment as he placed the notes in front of him and felt a surge of annoyance at Sherlock's rudeness. Why hasn't Mike warned him that this guy was such an insufferable prat? 

"Some of those 'morons' and 'brutes' are my mates that you're talking about. They're not all that bad," John replied as calm as he possibly could.

"Maybe you need new friends," Sherlock stated, raking his eyes over John and raising an eyebrow as if in deep thought. 

"That's your opinion. I came here to be tutored not lectured about the friends I have."

"Hmm, well the company you keep reflects badly on you. Anderson, Sebastian, Victor and Brian are idiots. They love to bully people who are different and who they think are odd or weird. And, when you respond to this abuse and tell the truth, they beat you up and call you a freak," Sherlock went on, disregarding John's response.

"Yeah, they're always talking about how weird you are and they call you a freak quite often. Some of them like to rough you up a bit. You're a real smart arse I hear. Maybe you should keep your little readings or whatever you call them to yourself. You know? Save yourself an arse beating," John suggested, looking at Sherlock with an intense expression.

"They're called deductions and it's not my fault they're not able to control their temper. Philip's girlfriend, Sally, is sleeping with your teammate Mark. Or that Sebastian gives blowjobs to men to earn a few extra quid. Victor is one of his regulars and tries to get a leg over with everyone. He's been having sexual liaisons with professor Hindenburg for good grades in advanced German. Plus, Victor's not the only one he's been sleeping with, there's more students; male and female. He thinks it will suffice for the problems he's having at home with his wife. Brian has a raging heroin habit, his parents are separating and they're constantly arguing, keeping him up at night which explains why he's unable to focus during rugby matches and even some of the practices. He's a mess, that one." 

"You could tell all of that about Sebastian, Sally and Victor how?" 

"I observed. There are telltale signs of Sebastian's activities are on the knees of his trousers and his bare knees much like Sally's. He's had a significant amount of money lately, more than his job is paying him. The corners of his mouth are red, indicating soreness from well, you know. Now for Anderson's 'girlfriend', she's been wearing men's deodorant. It's a very strong pine smell matching the scent of kind Perry wears. She's also showed up to Uni in his dress shirts a few times. And Victor, he's been frequenting Mr. Hindenburg's classroom. Now, you might be thinking, 'well he's probably having study sessions with him, Sherlock', but no. His lips are swollen, his cuff links had been switched around. The badly scuffed one was on his right sleeve but we he left the classroom, it was undoubtedly on is left sleeve. Those two share awkward glances with one another still. It's all quite obvious if you ask me," Sherlock answered, seemingly without taking a breath. 

John was truly taken aback at how smart and observant this man was.

"Wow. You knew all of that just from cuff links, the corners of Sebastian's mouth and Sally's knees? You're good."

"My deductions are usually spot on."

Sherlock gathered four sheets of college lined paper written in neat cursive handwriting on the front and back prior to handing them to John who placed them neatly into the first two pages of his Chemistry book.

"These are well detailed notes I've taken on those two subjects you've mentioned. They also have the answers on what's going to be on your make-up tests and upcoming quiz on the subjects. Also, pages 34-42 will be of great help though they'll basically give you the same information as my notes which are more in depth."

"Thanks. I really appreciate it, mate. Say, could you do me?" John asked, unaware of the lewd connotation of the question for only a minute.

Sherlock's lips quirked up into a smirk as he inwardly assessed John some more.

"I mean the deduction. The.....I.... Could you deduce me?" John tried again, correcting himself and stammering over his words a bit. He was sure his face was a tad red from embarrassment right now but he was still eager to hear what the genius had to say.

"Your body language tells me that you're a bit tense meaning you feel intimated by me due to my superior intelligence level. Though you are not a complete moron, you continuously doubt yourself when it comes to chemistry. It could mean that you're just on edge meeting me, a complete stranger for the first time or you've absorbed everything your friends said about me, negative I'm sure, and you believe them."

"No. I don't believe everything they say. I'm sure it's not all true," a nervous John interjected defensively.

"Hmm. Be that as it may, you're still tense, leaving one of the first two reasons to be the right one. Anyway, you'd like to become a doctor. You're taking all the proper courses and you're trying to get a high grade on your report card this semester, like the rest, meaning you talk your work seriously but sports have gotten in the way for a short bit. You want to get accepted into a good medical school, but you don't want to be just any sort of doctor. No. You want to be an army doctor. You're in ROTC, you've got recruitment pamphlets in your bag there. The corners are sticking out. The tips match the slips they've handed out at lunch today. Your posture and haircut all say military. Not to mention, you've got a knack for helping people. You're bisexual seeing that you date men and women. I'd say you've been with about two men and five women?" Sherlock explained, unsure of whether John had been with more than seven people. 

"Four women. But, hey. Who's counting?"

"You're quite the promiscuous one, aren't you?" Sherlock inquired, sounding sensual and intrigued rather than curious.

"What do you think?" John challenged, flirtatiously winking at Sherlock who completely ignored his advances and went on talking.

Truth be told, Sherlock loved John's flirting. He loved that his crush was paying attention to him and showing interest in him. He'd flirt back if he didn't feel sentiment were a hindrance and more so if he knew how. But now, he was on a roll, deducing John as the blond marveled, enjoying every moment of it.

"You have an older gay brother who you don't really get along with because of his drinking problem. His name is Harry - it’s engraved on the back of your new iPhone. It says 'love mum and da," as well on the back so it must've been a secondhand gift from him to you as he's probably gotten an upgrade recently, which is plausible seeing as you do have a father who is a pharmacist. I've seen him at the chemist a few times. His name is Adam Watson and I overhead him telling a customer, a regular obviously, that he had a son names John who attends this very university and seeing that you're the only John Watson here it makes sense. Did I miss anything before I get to your shoulder injury?" Sherlock deduced, again without pausing to take a breath.

"How could your possibly know about the drinking ?" John responded.

"Shot in the dark. Good one, though. Power connection Tiny little scuff marks round it.  
Every night he plugs it in to charge but his hands are shaking. You never see those marks on a sober man's phone, never see a drunk's without them."

"Yeah, okay. Go on about my shoulder," John urged, his mind blown at the accuracy of most of Sherlock's deductions.

Sherlock huffed out a haughty breath and smirked.

"Your shoulder was injured during a rugby game three months ago when you fell on your right arm, dislocating your shoulder. You were always the star player of the team, but ever since you recently made a comeback after a month long recovery, you're more focused on the sport than your chemistry course which has the highest difficulty level of all your courses. You often rub at your right shoulder, signaling that it bothers you periodically even after surgical attention. This also means that you've injured your shoulder other times prior to that incident. What did you have? A full-thickness rotator cuff tear or partial?" 

"It's a full tear. That was amazing," John found himself saying before he knew it. He didn't want to boost Sherlock's already enlarged ego, but he had to let the man know how great his deductions were.

"Do you think so?" Sherlock asked, shocked that someone found his deductions to be 'amazing.’

"Of course it was. It was extraordinary, quite extraordinary."

"That's not what people normally say."

"What do people normally say?" John asked merely out of curiosity. He knew it couldn't have been good

"'Piss off.' Did I get anything wrong?"

"Harry and me don't get on, never have and Harry is a drinker."

"Spot on, then. I didn't expect to be right about everything," Sherlock prided himself with a smug grin.

"Harry is short for Harriet," John corrected.

"Harry's your sister. Sister! There's always something."

Ha! So the great Sherlock Holmes does miss a detail or two sometimes.

"She's in rehab again. This is like her fourth time. She was married to a girl named Clara and they recently divorced due to her drinking problem. Thank God she's been out on her own for while. I hate that my mum still continues to support her through it," the blond admitted. 

"Sorry about that, John. But, there's something else. Say, you do know that your girlfriend Mary is using you? Right?" Sherlock revealed. He knew Mary and John had been dating for a little over six months. But, they'd broken up recently and now she was trying to ease her way back into John's life, surprisingly at the same time Sherlock saw her kissing another teammate named Riker. If Sherlock was lucky enough to ever have the opportunity to date John, he'd never treat him like that. Well, he really didn't like anyone in that way other than John and he would never want to purposely hurt the rugby star. 

Perhaps, this new finding would make John angry with Mary and draw him closer to Sherlock. Fingers crossed that things would work out in his favor.

John looked at Sherlock, baffled and asked, "What are you talking about? Mary isn't my girlfriend anymore." 

"Well, I saw her kissing Riker. She wants to date him and she's using you to make him jealous."

John felt his blood begin to boil. How dare he say these things? Mary was head over heels for him and John was sure that she was trying to reconcile their relationship, not use him to make some other bloke jealous. 

"No, that can't be true."

"She said so herself when talking to Molly. I thought you were smarter than that, John. I mean, I know you're practically failing chemistry now, but you can't be that much of a moron not to see that clearly! Unless, you are. Then again everyone is an idiot except for me,"

Sherlock arrogantly continued, his tone indifferent.

John glared at Sherlock and shook his head in disbelief.

"Shut up! Just, shut up. I've had enough of you insulting me."

"It's not my fault that all you’re good and useful for is a good shag and a pawn to her so that she could fill in that void where Riker is missing until she starts dating him. You must be very easy and quite daft, John," Sherlock spat vitriol, unfazed by John's anger, ragged breathing and the sight of him turning red with rage. 

"Fuck you, Sherlock. You know what? I thought I'd give you a chance, but my mates are right. You really are a freak," John spat venomously before shoving his book and other belongings into his messenger bag and shoving the chair back under the table. 

Out of all the mean, horrible things John said to Sherlock, 'freak' stung the most. It felt as if Sherlock's heart sank down into his chest and he immediately regretted provoking John to this level of anger. John was the last person he wanted to think he was a freak- a word used by many bullies since primary school bullies called him because he was different and so much better than them. 

He'd apologize if he weren't so egotistical, cold hearted and if only he could show John that he liked him without feeling weak. Much akin to his older brother Mycroft, Sherlock always thought that sentiment is a chemical defect found in the losing side. He had to change this thought because he was hurting John and pushing him way rather than making him like Sherlock. 

He watched, dumbfounded as John stormed out of the library and make his way out into the hallway.

Sherlock knew that there had to a way to fix this and he would definitely figure out how.


	2. Cobalt Blue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sherlock and John speak to each and have a rather interesting conversation.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks again to iriswallpaper for taking the time to Beta this chapter for me. And thank you to my lovely readers.

"You'll be able to take two make-up tests next week on Friday. I have the utmost faith in you, Watson."

"Thanks, Mr. Lenard. I hope I do well, then I can ace the midterms too!"

"Yeah, of course. You can do it. How did the tutoring with Sherlock go yesterday?"

John wondered if he should be honest with his professor or lie and say everything went perfect - though it was anything but. If he were honest with Mr. Lenard, would he assign John a new tutor or continue to have him work with the rude guy?  
With a forced smile, John nodded and said, "It's going great. His insight and notes are very helpful."

The chemistry professor smiled and patted him on the back.  
"It’s good to hear that you've had a good first meeting. You two meet again today and then Friday?" 

"Yes, we do. I'll go look for him now. Thanks," John said with a friendly dismissive wave of his hand.  
As he exited the chemistry lab, Victor swooped by and engaged John in a long conversation about a few game strategy options for Friday night’s match against the opposing university’s rugby team. After about fifteen minutes of conversation and walking around the building, John's black iPhone 5 pinged in his pocket. He paused to retrieve it and pressed the Home button.

There was a text message from Mary, the pretty blonde who was supposedly using John – at least according to Sherlock. Mary and John had dated on and off for close to a year, but John called it off when she admitted to sleeping with another bloke named Riker. The two still slept together a few times after the breakup and talked regularly. 

Sherlock's deduction about Mary using John to make Riker jealous wasn't too absurd, but John didn't want to believe it was true. But, Mary was a slapper and the accusation was plausible. He didn't want to ask her, somewhat in fear of hurting her feelings and mostly because he didn't want to know the harsh truth.

Sighing, he read the text message and smiled to himself once he saw what it said. 

John, meet me outside the back entrance near the rugby field.

With a quick swipe to the screen, unlocking the phone, his fingers tapped away at the keyboard typing out a reply.  
I'll be there in a tick, Mary.

"See you later, Vic. I've gotta go."

"Bye, mate."

He practically jogged towards the back of the university and shoved the heavy door open by its metal bar. He spotted Mary sitting on the cement wall next to the exit.

She wore a plain, long-sleeved teal dress with a pointed collar and black ballet flats. Her short, platinum blonde hair had been straightened and it sat a couple inches above her shoulders. Those blue-green eyes locked with John's as she reached her arms out to hug him. She had a warm smile on her face.

John couldn't help himself, he returned the embrace and pressed a kiss to her right cheek.

"How's rugby going?" Mary asked with a smile.

"It's great," came his simple reply.

"That's good news. I've missed you."

"Really?"

"Yes, of course," she answered, running her hand up and down John's forearm a few times before letting it rest on his wrist.

"Yeah, right. You miss Riker," John mumbled under his breath so that his words were incoherent to Mary.

"What was that, babe?" Mary inquired, raising a questioning eyebrow.

"Nothing. I was just....thinking about rugby practice is all."

Without warning, Mary stood up, snaked her hand around the back of John's neck and pulled him into a chaste kiss.

"Still thinking about rugby?"

"A bit, yeah."

Mary pulled him into another kiss. John rested his hand on Mary's kneecap as he reluctantly began to kiss her back.

The sound of the left double door opening and hitting the brick wall caused the two to break the kiss and look in the general direction of where noise came from. It was Sherlock. John rolled his eyes and let out an exaggerated sigh. This was the last person that he wanted to see. 

Mary began to giggle as she stood up.

"John," Sherlock simply stated, blood boiling at the fact that John was kissing somebody other than him. To make things worse, he'd been kissing her. The girl he'd tried to warn John about to save his heart from getting broken. John was Sherlock's and he'd never break his heart like Mary had done and continued to do. 

"What is it?" John spat, back still turned to Sherlock.

"You didn't come to the library. You're fifteen minutes late for our session. I went all over the school looking for you," Sherlock explained, eyeing Mary suspiciously as she glared at him, throwing a scowl in his direction.

"You know, for someone who's known for being a genius, you're stating the obvious."

"Who is this, babe?" Mary asked.

John looked back at Sherlock and shook his head.

"He's nobody important, just my tutor," he answered.

Sherlock's expression fell a little after John referred to him as 'nobody important'. He wanted to be John's one and only, to be the center of John's world. He wanted to be important to John. He needed to be John's. Luckily for him, John didn't just date girls, he liked his fair share of men too. Sherlock was sure that he was John's type of guy and he'd even be willing to allow John to tamper with his chastity which is something he'd never let anyone else do. He'd have to treat John better instead of putting on a facade of being completely heartless and indifferent towards him.

"Awe, I didn't know you had a tutor. He seems friendly."

"He's not. Anything but, in fact." 

Turning to Sherlock, John went on to say, "And, why would I come back for another session with you after what you said to me yesterday?"

"I......I'm.... I," Sherlock trailed off.

"Exactly. Now, would you please leave? I don't want to speak to you anymore."

"You can leave now, weirdo," Mary said mockingly, fanning her hand dismissively at Sherlock after he'd been staring at John, gob smacked for a moment too long. 

She had the audacity to butt into the conversation and speak to him in such a condescending way. She had no room to get away with this after what she'd done, so Sherlock decided to do what he was notorious for and deduced her, picking out everything she hated about herself and little activities she'd been involved in that she believed nobody else knew about.

"Oh, Mary. You really shouldn't be acting so innocent after your little dalliance with Riker last night. There're traces of his cologne on your clothing and you're wearing his knee socks. Those are his ribbed navy blue socks with a small hole in the center of the right one. You are using John to get Riker jealous and once he finally asks you to date him, you plan to kick John to the curb. I don't know if it's because you're insecure about your recent ten pound weight gain or that you have troubles staying faithful to one man because you can't keep your legs closed. And, John, I wouldn't let her kiss me if I were you. She's just given Riker oral sex last night," Sherlock deducted in a sudden burst of anger and vitriol. 

John backed away from Mary and glared at her.

"What? He's lying," she simply stated as a form of defense. She didn't even come up with a better excuse.

"No, I'm not."

"Is it true Mary?" John asked, angry and confused.

"Well- I..... Yes. I'm sorry, John. I still do have feelings for you," she insisted.

"No! Sherlock is right about you. I never want to have anything to do with you again," John said, adjusting his messenger bag on his shoulder and reentering the school. 

Meanwhile, Sherlock stood outside for a moment with his arms crossed, looking at Mary with a victorious expression on his face.

"What exactly do you think you've accomplished?" asked Mary.

"Everything I needed to in fact. John knows the truth now and I don't want to see him get hurt. It's grand that he no longer has to live under the false pretense thinking you're in love with him when you're really not," he retorted, uncrossing his arms and casually adjusting the collar of his shirt.

"Well I hope you're happy," Mary commented, standing up, picking up her backpack from the ground and pointing her finger in Sherlock's face.

"Oh, and you're not his type by the way. He doesn't go for oddballs like you if that's what you're trying to get at."

Sherlock sneered, laughing humorlessly. 

"And you are?" he scoffed. "You're the one who's not his type anymore. I'm sure I wouldn't hurt him like you have. Besides, what my intentions are and what I do is solely my business. It has nothing to do with you."

And with that, Sherlock turned on his heel, pushed open the door again and went back inside of the building, making his way to the library. 

He smiled to himself, feeling victorious and proud of himself. Now, for the next phase: getting John to like him in a not-so-platonic manner.

Sherlock went back into the library and sat back down at his usual table located near the back of the room away from the others. He suspected John would arrive soon so he removed his coat, scarf and took out a few notes and other resources to help his friend? study and prepare for his tests.  
The genius took a seat and steepled his fingers underneath his chin, his usual thinking pose. John burst through the double doors and stormed over to his tutor.

"Hey," he greeted casually, sitting next to Sherlock and immediately pulling out his binder along with his chemistry book. 

"I looked through your notes last night. They were really good."

"Thanks, John. Erm.... Are you all right? About the Mary thing?"

It was unlike Sherlock to ask anyone about their feelings or how they were doing. John was surely changing him bit by bit.

"Yeah, mate. I'm all right. I guess I should've listened to you yesterday. But, you're still an arrogant, posh git," John answered, raking his eyes over the beautiful man in front of him. 

Without even looking directly at John, Sherlock said, "You've got questions. Go ahead and ask them. Do make them interesting. I don't have time for tedious conversations."  
He craned his head upwards as he looked down his nose at John, a sure sign of indignation.

"How old are you?" John asked.

Sherlock sighed and turned to look at his tutee with a blank expression, seeming deceivingly uninterested, but in reality giddy with joy that John would even want to engage in conversation with him that had nothing to do with chemistry or the tutoring. 

"Twenty-three. Next question."

"Mm, I like an older man," John quipped, tracing his tongue over his bottom lip tantalizingly slow all while looking Sherlock right in his ever-changing, quicksilver eyes.

"Really is that so? Even one like me?" Sherlock teased, a grin sneaking its way across his usually expressionless face.

"Especially one like you, Sherlock Holmes."

"You need glasses and a mental evaluation. Next question, please."

"I concur on the second part. Why are you helping me? You know, with the tutoring and the Mary thing. Your intentions don't have to be decent," John responded with a small giggle. 

God, this young man was sexy and Sherlock was falling right into his trap. No wonder he was a well-known philanderer.

"You're the least boring person in this school and you're not a complete idiot like everyone else. About the Mary situation, let's just say that I like you and don't want to see you hurt. My intentions are to look out for you. I think that you should be with someone who treats you better and actually loves you." 'Like me,' Sherlock wanted to add, but kept it to himself. 

"I don't know whether that's an insult or a compliment. If it's the latter, then thank you. First you evaluate my friends and the company I keep and now you're interested in my love life. That's interesting. Don't you have a girlfriend?" John inquired. 

"I'm that case, you're welcome. It was a compliment. And no. Girlfriends aren't really my area," Sherlock answered, nearly shuddering at the thought of being with a female of any sort in a romantic way.

"Oh? Boyfriend then? Which is fine-"

"I know it's fine. But, nope. I consider myself married to my work," Sherlock said accentuating the 'p' in nope.

"I can see why. You're arrogant and very rude. If someone dated you based on your looks, then I'd believe you. You must be high maintenance during sex."

"I don't see where you'd get that from. Not everyone wants to get a leg over with every good looking person they meet. For you it's easy, I'm sure. You're charming, handsome and athletic. I'm none of those. Besides, sex is boring and it's the cause of so many crimes nowadays. My body is just merely transport."

"You are handsome too. Honestly. I do practice safe sex, you know?" 

John wanted so badly to tell Sherlock how beautiful he was, but he was treading on thin ice here.

"That proves my point. You're not a complete idiot. Do you have any more questions?"

"Wait. Did you just say that sex is boring? Because that's completely and utterly untrue. Sex is great, especially when you're with the right person. You feel close to one another. It's a beautiful, passionate connection. It's more like making love than just sex when it's with the right person," John backtracked.

"Hmm. Have you ever did that? 'Made love'?" 

"Only once Sherlock. It was with Sarah. She and I had a deep personal connection. Though our romantic relationship is over, we still remain good friends."

"That's nice and very.....mature of you. Both of you. Have you ever had a boyfriend?" Sherlock asked merely out of curiosity.

"Hey, I thought I was the one asking questions here," John teased.

"Sorry."

"I'm just kidding. I've never had a boyfriend. The men I've been with were just acquaintances and we ended up having sex. It's not that great to just have sex with somebody when you're both only horny and there aren't any feelings involved. It's all quick fumbling and the sex doesn't last that long which is needless to say undesirable," John honestly answered.

"I've never made love neither, when you describe it like that. It would take a truly remarkable, unique individual and someone quite special to receive my interminable, undivided attention and affection," Sherlock admitted. He was impressed by John's unflagging flirting and the fact that he'd shown his attraction to him as well.

"I'm sure that would be the case. Perhaps soon, you'll find that unique, right person and have that powerful connection. Then you'll understand what I mean."

Sherlock gave John a genuine smile, something he hardly ever did and it was rarely seen by others.  
"Oh! I nearly forgot. I have more notes on pressure conversions," Sherlock remembered, handing a pristine sheet of lined paper with his neat handwriting on the front.

"Thanks."

"Now, in order to solve these conversions factors, you must use a common conversion factor , useful constants and SI unit prefixes table. If you pay close attention, you'll notice that they'll assist you greatly in solving conversions between kilopascal's and atmospheres and millimeters of mercury," Sherlock instructed, turning John's chemistry book to the page with the necessary tables listed on it as John eagerly paid attention.

He jotted down a short and moderately easy problem on a blank sheet of printer paper that he thought John would be able to solve quickly. 

"Remember, John a kilopascal equals 1000 of Newton per square meter."

With Sherlock's reminder installed, John went to work at solving the equation. He solved the equation in less than thirty seconds and nervously revealed his answer afterwards. To his surprise, he'd gotten the right answer. John really needed to stop doubting himself.

"You've solved it correctly. Let's try a few more. We'll work on the unit cancellations Friday."

Sherlock wrote down five more equations that he thought of from off the top of his head, each one ranging in difficulty levels. Using the correct formula, john enlisted the help of the calculator on his phone applying the correct formula to assist him in figuring out the answers. Though, the more difficult ones took a bit more time to solve, Sherlock patiently waited and watched as the top of John's pencil marked the paper. 

"I'm not sure how I did, but I'm through," John said nervously, after he'd finished the last equation. He slid his paper over to Sherlock and looked down at his hands. 

Sherlock's eyes skimmed over the paper and he nodded slowly while reviewing the answers presented to him.

"You really need to stop doubting yourself, John. These answers are correct- all of them! You just need to apply what you've leaned and concentrate. Don't let sports overwhelm you. It'll sell be there for you to play."

"Really? All of them?" John asked, not believing what he'd just heard.

"I'm a genius, and I know a right answer when I see one. Let's see what you're homework entails. We can work on a few problems together."

John showed Sherlock the pages his professor had assigned to him for homework and they worked on a few of them to pass the time. There were a couple of moments when awkward silence fell upon them, but John, being the social one, was able to get Sherlock talking again by asking questions about his methods of committing the lessons to memory. 

Mr. Lenard had been right about Sherlock rarely attending his classes. Sherlock already had what he needed to know stored in that bountiful brain of his plus it was an added bonus that he read a lot of books. 

Before they both knew it, 4:25 was upon them. John had rugby practice in twenty minutes and he was in no rush. He felt as if there were more to know about his mysterious tutor than he'd found out earlier today.

"Do you have any hobbies? Other than being a full-time genius?" he asked.

Sherlock shot him a look of surprise and opened his mouth to answer, but quickly clamped his mouth shut.

"Not everyone is a genius like you and can deduce things."

"They're a bit strange."

"We all have some sorta strange trait about us. Come on, tell me," John urged.

"Well, I play the violin and I conduct a lot of experiments. I dissect human organs which are given to me by Molly. She's got an internship at the pathology department at St. Bart's and she's quite generous when I'm in need of a few body parts. I also assist the MET in solving crimes," Sherlock answered with a quick raise of his eyebrows.

"So you're a detective? I'd say a private detective....." John wondered out loud.

"But?" Sherlock prompted.

"The police don't go to private detectives."

"I'm a consulting detective. Only one in the world. I invited the job."

"What does that mean?" the blond asked.

"It means when the police are out of their depth, which is always, the consult me," Sherlock answered proudly. 

"That's brilliant. I'm sure they can't wait to hear you deduce how every crime took place.

"Sometimes," came Sherlock's low and terse reply as he stood up to put his scarf back on and tie his scarf around his long, freckled neck.

"I'll uh......see you on Friday, then. Today went well, yeah? Thank you for the help," John said, putting his items back into his messenger bag.

"See you on Friday, John."

And with that, Sherlock slid the chair back under its desk and headed towards the exit. John gazed lingered in his general direction even after he'd exited the library. He took in the way Sherlock's curls slightly bounced as he nodded enthusiastically during their conversation, the way his pupils had dilated while and how he subconsciously made vague hand gestures when he was talking to John.

For a brief moment, he wondered how it would feel to thread his fingers in those soft, shiny, voluminous curls. He wondered the types of sounds Sherlock would make as he marked up his beautiful, long, freckled neck.  
This Sherlock Holmes was going to make Johan's experience at Saint Benedict's college more interesting.  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
As John finished changing into his rugby uniform, he placed his belongings into his locker and secured it. Once he made his way upstairs to the back hallway, he saw Sherlock walking towards the back exit where the rugby field was. He seemed to be retuning back inside of the building seeing that his hair had been blown in different directions by the wind. Once the young man approached the rows of lockers, a tall, burly blond student with a scowl on his face emerged from a space between two locker rows and pointed his finger at Sherlock who seemed to be catch Sherlock by surprise.

John quickly realized that this was Riker and he probably was upset with Sherlock because Mary more than likely told him what he'd said earlier that day. 

He couldn't quite make out what the two were saying, but he could tell it wasn't nice by the sarcastic tone of Sherlock's baritone voice echoed throughout the hall and Riker's angry facial expression. 

"You're just upset because your love interest, Mary, is a serial whore. I'd say you two will last about two months tops," Sherlock said, becoming indignant at being the object of harassment and bullying.

"You little arsehole! I'm going to kick your arse for that," Riker threatened, jabbing his finger into Sherlock's chest repeatedly as he balled his other hand up into a fist.

"Really? That'd be very ambitious of you," Sherlock challenged.

Riker grabbed Sherlock by the lapels of his coat and slammed his back into the lockers causing a tinny sound to resonate though the empty hall. His head hit the locker with a thud and John noticed Sherlock's gloved fist clench as his frustration and irritation grew.

"Fuck you! Nobody likes you. You're a freak, a loser and an ugly person."

"Well, that's not true. There are a few people do like me and don't see me as any of those juvenile names you've just called me. You're an idiot and you're conversation is boring me. So if you could kindly leave me, I'd appreciate it."

Riker raised his fist up to Sherlock's face and John dashed from around the corner and yelled, "Oi! You let him go!" 

This caused the bully to startle, let go of Sherlock and back away from him.

"You better leave him alone or I'll kick your arse!"

"Why do you care?" Riker asked, completely ignoring John's threat.

"I better not see you trying to hurt him again," John replied boldly.

"Oh yeah? What are you going to do about it? Are you here to defend the freak?" the long haired teen teased, provoking John's ire.

John had enough of this bloke knocking Sherlock around and talking about him as if he were not even human. As if he didn't have feelings. Yes, Sherlock seemed hard-hearted, but believe it or not, he was not a machine and underneath that indifferent person, was a heart that could be broken just like anyone else's.

"He's a prick. I don't even know why you like him," Riker said smacking Sherlock's books and binder out of his hands causing them to fly across the walkway as papers flew from the notebook and landed askew onto the hard tiled floors.

John charged over towards Riker and ounce him square in the jaw. Riker grabbed hold of his face and stumbled backward. He let out an agonizing groan and squeezed his eyes shut. 

"John!" Sherlock says, voice nervous and begging.

John looks back at him, cobalt blue eyes filled with fury and annoyance, as he's about to hit the bully again.

"Don't do it. He isn't worth it. You'll get expelled and you definitely won't be able to play rugby anymore."

At Sherlock's words, John seemed to relax a bit. He dropped his fist and watched as Riker ran away from him, whining like a child. 

John knelt down with Sherlock to help gather his books and sort his papers. 

"Thanks, John."

"It's no big deal. I've got a little over ten minutes until practice starts anyway."

Once all of Sherlock's papers were collected, he placed them in order by the date written on them. Thankfully, there were no more than ten sheets to sort and two books to collect. Even if more books and paper were left to pick up, John wouldn't mind helping Sherlock collect them.  
John noticed a cut out section of the school newspaper from a few months ago with a picture of him, Victor and Oliver in their rugby uniforms posing by the bleachers. The article included a brief interview with the three rugby players about how John won the game for the team and Oliver's and Victor's game preparations. 

He smiled to himself and slowly handed the paper back to a completely mortified Sherlock. He felt as if the air had left his lungs and all he could to was stare at John with his mouth agape and stammer out a couple of broken sentences.

"I umm.....er, I..... I don't know h-how that..... I saw that game."

To his surprise, John smiled warmly and nodded.

"That was one of the best times I've had on the field, aside from my comeback of course. I'm glad you like the team. I wouldn't have pegged you a sports person though. I will say, it's a nice surprise," John said.

"Yeah. You're a great rugby player. Oliver is pretty good, too," Sherlock replied, sliding the paper back in between the papers in his binder.

"Thanks, Sherlock- for everything."

"You're welcome, John. I know how much you like rugby."

"Well, I'll see you later. Hopefully you'll come to next week’s game. I could use a cheerleader," John said with a wink and walked towards the exit door.

"S-see you later, John." 

Sherlock grinned to himself at the thought of being John's supporter for the rugby games to come.  
"Oh! I almost forgot. Sherlock, what's your mobile number? I need it just in case I'm ever running late for a session."

"I already logged my contact information into your mobile while you were preparing to depart from the library," Sherlock replied with a weak smile.

"Okay. You're brilliant and stealthy," John said upon leaving again.

Hopefully, John would text him about things other than their study sessions and the sooner, the better things would be for them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading. :)  
> Please be sure to comment and give kudos. Let me know what you think.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! Go on and tell me what you think. :D 
> 
> **I plan on updating this every weekend, but I make no solid promises. With work and the fact that I'm going to be a new mom soon, my schedule seems to be all over the place.  
> 


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